There's No Such Thing as a Free Lunch
by Fanwoman
Summary: Genma was wrong. It doesn't take a daimyō to measure the value of a shinobi's deeds; regular people are perfectly capable of doing that themselves. The efforts of the Akimichis have not been forgotten. Set after the war.


SPOILERS: Through _Naruto_ chapter 537—into the war and beyond the current anime.

NOTES: I have a policy of not accepting the plot bunnies of others, since I have too many of my own. But I absolutely fell in love with this one (and my husband doesn't write), so I found myself compelled to put pen to paper, so to speak. Ever since the Sasuke Rescue Arc, I have had a soft spot for Chōji. He is the kindest of the characters, yet the first of the Rookies to kill. His family is one of the four great clans of Konoha, but he shows none of the psychological issues of other heirs. Akimichis have been _everywhere_ during the war, and they have been largely effective (no pun intended). How many shinobi of the First Division owe their lives to the efforts of Chōji and his father? Despite this, Chōji's still the least-written-about Rookie. This won't change that, but it's my effort to give the guy and his clan a little of the fan love they deserve.

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own _Naruto_.

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><p>THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A FREE LUNCH<p>

"I can see the gates!"

Shikamaru nodded to his friend as they ambled down the path to the main gates of their village, one of the first parts to be repaired after the attack that had nearly wiped Konoha from the map. Since the reconstruction was a long, slow process, there was more work to do in town than out of it, but there was always something comfortably pleasant about coming home. "Yeah, it's good to be back."

Protecting convoys tended to be either very effortful or painfully dull. This one had been the latter, not that Shikamaru had minded. There had been a flat-topped wagon carrying some VIP from Honey that had been perfect for sprawling out to watch the clouds or take a nap—all in the name of guard duty, of course. If he ever snored, he had his childhood teammate and best friend, Chōji, to poke him or make lively conversation to cover the noise.

So despite how far they'd had to travel for the job, it had been almost relaxing, with the only danger being a landslide Chōji had easily protected everyone from then cleared off the road. The incident had made the VIP's daughter very appreciative of the young Akimichi. It was something Shikamaru had been trying to get used to. He and his friend had always been among the uncool guys, the kind girls didn't pay attention to, but ever since the war that had changed...for Chōji anyway.

"Chōji, Shikamaru, welcome back." The chūnin at the gate offered them a clipboard with forms to sign. "Good mission?"

"Nothing interesting," Shikamaru mumbled as he stamped the paperwork with his hanko. Even for a boring assignment, the specifics were meant for their report to the Hokage, not idle chatter.

"The weather and countryside were very nice." Chōji stamped the papers with his own seal. "Anything new while we were gone, Izumo?"

The gate guard smiled, responding to that innate something about the new Chōji that made people feel privileged to have his interest and time. "The playground for the orphanage is finished, and power has been restored to the last sectors in the northeast."

"That's good to hear!" Chōji returned the man's smile as he set down the clipboard. "I'm glad the kids have a place to play. See you later."

"Sure thing." The chūnin waved happily as they left, like a goof instead of a guard. "Have a good one."

During the war, Chōji had transformed, quiet literally, into a confident, capable force to be reckoned with, worthy of his position as the heir of one of the great clans of Konoha. Although Shikamaru had long been aware that, for generations, the Akimichis had protected his own clan and that of their other teammate, Ino, the balance of power between the three had always been equal, perhaps leaning toward Shikamaru. That balance had changed along with Chōji, and Shikamaru was still coming to terms with it.

Some young woman he didn't know the name of smiled at them. "Welcome back, Chōji."

As much as the shift in power might bother him, what really peeved Shikamaru was the sudden interest of young women in his friend.

A girl who looked like the young woman's little sister giggled and blushed. "I hope you had a good mission, Chōji."

Chōji amiably smiled and nodded. "I did, thanks."

In some ways it vexed Shikamaru because none of them would have paid attention to Chōji before the war, but sometimes it was just vexing that none of that attention was aimed at him. He tried to reassure himself that it would be a pain to have fame, and as they strolled along the main street on their way to headquarters, he was reminded of just how troublesome fame could be.

They weren't half a block down the shop-lined main street that lead to the Hokage's tower when an old woman's voice beckoned. "Little Chōji! You're back?" Gray hair tied in a matronly bun, a kimono-clad shop owner bustled toward them, a stick of dango in each hand. "Have a treat." She pressed a stick into the big man's hand then gave the other one to Shikamaru. "And one for the young Nara, too." At least this woman had paid attention to Chōji for years; after all, he was a regular customer.

"Thanks, Mrs. Mitake." Chōji smiled as the old lady pinched his cheek like she had since they were kids, even though she had to stand on her toes to do it.

"Yeah, thanks." Shikamaru had gotten goma dango. The shopkeeper might not remember his name, but she knew what he liked.

"You must be thirsty, just getting back." The old woman gestured to an open wooden bench in her shop. "Would you like some tea?"

Chōji gave her a half bow of appreciation. "No thanks, Mrs. Mitake. We should really report to the Hokage first."

Brushing a bit of leaf stuck to Chōji's sleeve in a familiar manner that reminded Shikamaru of his grandmother, she nodded. "All right, but don't be a stranger. And please give your parents my regards."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Mitake."

As they started heading away, she called fondly after them. "Take care, boys!"

Shikamaru managed to finish his dango before another shopkeeper accosted his friend.

"Mr. Akimichi!" A young man running a new yakitori shop trotted out from behind his grill with a pair of skewers. This time they were both given to Chōji. The gizzard and mushroom combination he'd offered was the most expensive, based on the menu on the wall. "Please have these with our compliments."

"Uh...okay, but..." It wasn't in Chōji to say no to free food. His clan's hidden ninja techniques relied on stores of fat that could be converted instantly into incredible amounts of physical power.

The young man smiled at Chōji's confusion. "My mother is a medic, and she is very grateful for the diligence, kindness, and good humor of the Akimichi twins who guarded her station during the war."

Chōji became less flustered and gave a little half bow. "Please give your mother my thanks for her service..." Glancing at the sign over the shop, the big man grinned. "Mr. Sakai."

Grasping Chōji's free hand, the shopkeeper gave it a shake. "Please, call me Rinji."

"I'm Chōji." Stepping slightly to one side, he nodded to Shikamaru. "And this is my teammate, Shikamaru Nara."

There was a momentary blank expression on the man's face that indicated he hadn't noticed Shikamaru and didn't know the role the Naras had played in the war. Then again, it wasn't like people hadn't tended to notice Chōji first before the war. Being on the scrawny side and not remotely tall, Shikamaru was used to being overlooked when standing next to his beefy friend. Of course, as kids, both had usually been socially eclipsed by their vivacious, blonde, kunoichi teammate.

With a blink, the man was smiling again and reaching riskily over his grill to snatch up a stick of thigh and long onion to offer Shikamaru. "Any teammate of an Akimichi is a friend here."

Shikamaru couldn't help noting his combination was a much cheaper than Chōji's, but he preferred thigh to gizzard, anyway. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Taking a bite before it could grow cold, Chōji gave an appreciative hum. "Yeah, thanks, Rinji. This is delicious!"

Tasting his own, Shikamaru grunted in agreement.

Rinji clapped his hands in delight then waved as they began making their way down the street again. "Please be sure to let your relatives know, Akimichis are more than welcome at the Sakai Yakitoriya!"

Chōji waved farewell then gave Shikamaru a thoughtful and knowing glance. "You don't want any gizzard do you?"

"Nah, I'm good with this."

"Young Master!"

Shikamaru resisted rolling his eyes as he pulled the last chunk of chicken and onion off his skewer.

Holding up his hand that still held a half stick of gizzard and mushroom, Chōji tried to ward off the bar-b-q pork bun being pressed into his other. "Mrs. Ubari, you don't have to-"

"I insist!" The baker had always been parsimony and dower toward the young men of Konoha until Chōji's youngest uncle had brought back her husband's body from an ambush he'd barely survived himself. For some reason, the woman had gotten it in her head that Chōji, as the heir of the Akimichis, held some sway over his unmarried uncle's romantic interests and had been plying him with food ever since. "And if you would be so kind, please give this to Yamabito with my appreciation." She tucked a well-stuffed, white paper bag into the crook of Chōji's arm.

"Mrs. Ubari, I-"

She held up a hand and turned her head to face back into the shop. "Tsubame!" The annoying way the baker ignored what others had to say reminded Shikamaru too much of his mother. "Come here, please!"

"Yes, Auntie!"

The voice that drifted from the depths of the bakery was young and female, causing Shikamaru to share an uncertain glance with his friend.

"Here, let me take that, and you have this, dear." Mrs. Ubari snatched Shikamaru's empty skewers and passed him a bread with a center of cheese, corn, and nori, Shikamaru's favorite.

How Shikamaru fit into the scheme of the woman's ambitions, he didn't know, but he'd given up trying to reject her offerings.

Through the swinging doors at the back of the shop came a young woman with generous curves and an impressive mane of wavy brown hair held back by a bandanna. She wiped her floured hands on her apron as she approached them with a sunny smile. "And who are these handsome young men, Auntie?"

It was a good thing the baker was doing the talking, because he knew Chōji would probably be rendered momentarily speechless by the casually given compliment. Despite having girls greet him regularly since the war, the only person Shikamaru had ever heard call Chōji "handsome" was Chōji's mom. Shikamaru's mom was too sour to ever offer compliments, so the experience was novel to him, too.

"This is Young Master Akimichi and Young Master Nara, both from prominent clans in Konoha that were vital during the war," gushed the baker. "This is my niece, Tsubame. She's new in town and has come to help me run the shop."

The young woman bowed to them. "Thank you for your service and your patronage of my auntie's shop. It's very nice to meet you."

Shikamaru nodded. "Nice to meet you."

When Chōji didn't respond, he looked to his friend and found the big man's cheeks dusted with pink and a surprised expression on his face. He gave Chōji a poke, and his friend finally snapped out of it. "It's very nice to meet you, too."

After a moment of silence, Shikamaru decided it was time to get going. "Thanks for the treats, Mrs. Ubari, but we just got back and need to report to the Hokage."

"Oh, of course!" She waved her hand in front of her face in apologetic dismissal. "Don't mind us, and thank you for stopping by."

What part of her accosting them qualified as "stopping by" he wasn't sure, but they turned, once again, toward the Hokage's tower.

As they walked away, Shikamaru heard Tsubame say, "He has such a kind face. Is he really a ninja?"

Shikamaru didn't need to guess which one of them the young woman was talking about, since "sneering" and "sneaky" were usually the words girls used to describe his own face.

"I hear a fourth of Konoha's shinobi wouldn't have made it home from the war without him and his father."

The honest appreciation in the baker's voice surprised Shikamaru, but he resisted the urge to look back to see the widow's expression. Instead he took a bite of the soft, fresh, savory pastry and wondered how long it would take to reach headquarters. As troublesome as the walk to the tower might be, he would never think of skipping out on Chōji because their bonds of friendship were too strong to allow him to abandon his teammate to the merchants anymore than he would abandon him to an enemy. And it wasn't as though there were alternate routes that were easier. The Hokage intentionally made returning shinobi who were not in a state of emergency use the east gates as a way to boost sales for the shops along the main street. From experience, Shikamaru knew, when accompanying his friend, even taking side streets would result in similar slowdowns. The simplest option was to stick to it and try not to be bothered by it all.

Although food vendors were scattered all along the main street, they were more densely concentrated near the main gates to catch hungry shinobi returning from missions. Given the clan's wealth, influence, and average girth, it was always a good idea for any food-related store to encourage the patronage of Akimichis. So it wasn't too surprising for shop keepers to give Chōji samples of their cooking, but the tone of their offerings had changed just as the world had changed.

As they continued, he and Chōji received grilled eggplant from a robata chef whose daughter was a sensory type shinobi. One night during the war, the enemy had disguised themselves as allies, and anyone who could tell the difference had been targeted. The man's daughter had apparently survived thanks to the protection of one of Chōji's cousins. Then there were the salmon-filled temaki-zushi from a man who'd been a part of the supply chain, that had been guarded by Akimichis. By the time they reached a stretch of non-food shops, Shikamaru was feeling rather full and wondering if either of them would need lunch by the time they reached the tower.

"Chōji!" Short but brawny, the man calling to his friend was one of Konoha's many weapons smiths. "Just a moment, if you will." Turning to a willowy girl who shared his curly pale hair and unusual gray eyes, the man snapped his fingers to pull her wide-eyed focus from Chōji. "Fusae, go get it!"

With a gasp and a blush, the girl nodded then scurried through the curtained doorway at the back of the shop.

"So you've reopened your shop," Chōji observed with his usual squinting smile.

With a nod, the man beamed. "The forge was completed a week ago, so I can finally sell my own wares instead of just imports."

The girl returned in breathless haste, carrying a sheathed sword with a magnificent, butterfly-patterned tansu, which she handed to the smith.

Grasping the sheath in both hands, the man held it out to Chōji while bowing from the waist. The girl echoed his formal gesture. "Please accept this trifle for your father, the first from my new forge."

Shikamaru wasn't the only one getting used to Chōji's new-found fame. Shifting back in discomfort, Chōji held up a hand. "Mr. Ogata, I can't possibly-"

"Please!" Still bowed over, the man lifted his head and boldly grasped Chōji's hand to place the sword into it and curl Chōji's fingers around it. "My sons were in the front lines of the First Division. They survived because of Chōza."

"Thank you for my brothers' lives!" The girl raised her head to reveal unabashed tears of gratitude in her eyes.

Between Chōji's jovial mother, Shikamaru's harpy-like mother, and the lively spirit of their kunoichi teammate, neither of them had had much experience with crying girls.

Chōji caved immediately. "Oh, sure." The Akimichis didn't often use blades, preferring their fists and blunt weapons, but Shikamaru's friend held the sword with careful reverence as he partially unsheathed it. "It's magnificent," he murmured with sincerity. "My father will be honored to own such a fine weapon from Konoha's best."

Straightening, the man beamed again. "The honor is all mine." The man and his daughter kept bowing at Chōji until the crowd swallowed them.

"What's your dad going to do with a sword?" wondered Shikamaru.

Chōji shrugged casually but his voice was serious as he slipped the weapon through a loop in his backpack. "He's a sword smith, so he gave Pa a sword." There was a hint of chastisement in his isn't-it-obvious observation. "The sentiment that it was given with is all that matters."

They were over halfway to the tower when an unfamiliar woman's voice called. "Aren't you Lord Chōji?"

Stifling a sigh, Shikamaru turned with his friend to face a middle-aged woman. She had elaborately arranged black hair, was dressed in a seasonal kimono, and approached them from a traditional clothing shop.

"Yes..." Chōji glanced at the shop's sign, but there was no family name on it.

The woman bowed. "Shiroko Ebashi, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," they echoed.

Straightening, she offered them both a kind smile. "I would ask a small favor of you, Lord Chōji, if you and Lord Shikamaru have a moment."

Chōji glanced at Shikamaru. Impressed that this woman actually knew his personal name despite them having never met, he shrugged apathetically in a way that Chōji knew meant it was fine.

"Sure, Mrs. Ebashi."

With another bow, she moved to the back of her shop and opened a wardrobe to pull out a bag with a garment box in it. Then she returned, the shuffling, scuffing sound of her zōri just audible above the sounds of the bustling street.

Bowing, she offered Chōji the bag. "Please give this to Lord Takaharu. He saved my husband's life while fighting in the Second Division, but it seems he has been on an extended assignment since I was able to make this. I would be most grateful if you would see that this reaches him."

Returning her bow, Chōji accepted the bag for his relative. "I'll be sure it does, Mrs. Ebashi."

The sleeves of her kimono moved gracefully as she swiveled to reach for a pricey pair of mens handkerchiefs. She pressed one into each of their hands.

"It's no bother, Mrs. Ebashi," insisted Chōji. "You don't have to give us something to do it."

Giving their hands a squeeze, the woman shook her head and smiled. "My husband has told me stories..." Her carefully groomed brows furrowed briefly as though she was in pain. "Even just the hints of what you went through, and you both so young..." After taking in a deep breath, her smile returned and she released them. "This is a small token of appreciation, for all you have done for Konoha. Oh!" She turned, again, and shuffled through a selection of womens handkerchiefs, selecting a pale lavender one with rich, dark-purple embroidery along the edge. Then she pressed the slim box into Chōji's hand. "For Lady Ino."

What else could Chōji do? He smiled and nodded. "I'm sure she'll love it, thank you."

After bowing to each other, they parted, and he and Chōji continued down the street.

"Want me to carry something?" Shikamaru teased as he slid his handkerchief into a pocket.

With a chuckle, Chōji slipped the bag's straps into the hand of the arm that held the bag from the bakery, then he tucked the gift for Ino between that arm and his side. Raising his free hand he grinned. "I'm good."

As they continued, Shikamaru had to admit, although the attention of young ladies was more noticeable due to its previous lack, even familiar faces greeted Chōji with a reverence that hadn't been there before.

That was not the case with Mrs. Nagamura, who called them with her usual friendly warmth. "Boys, would you mind coming here a moment?" Already beginning to show her pregnancy, she glowed with health and happiness as she turned and called into her shop. "Jun! Grab the gift for Hirokichi!"

The Nagamuras ran a shop that specialized in infant and child needs. Shikamaru and his team had become familiar with them thanks to the birth of their late master's child, Kogane. Although many had been skeptical of such a shop, since friends and relatives traditionally made the items expectant parents would need, it had proven an unexpected success, thanks to the post-war baby boom in Konoha, which included Mrs. Nagamura.

"You're looking very well, Mrs. Nagamura." Chōji had always been the most polite of their team.

Brown eyes twinkling, the mother-to-be swatted the big man playfully on the arm. "Thank you. But how many times do I have to tell you to call me Yasujo?"

"You _did_ call us, 'boys,' just now," Shikamaru pointed out.

"Oh, you!" Mrs. Nagamura girlishly stuck her tongue out at him. "See if I give you a special discount next time you want a toy for Kogane."

With a distinctive rhythm—step, tap, step, tap—Mr. Nagamura made his way to the front of the shop. Despite the best efforts of the medics, not everyone who had made it home from the war had done so in one piece. Nagamura had been part of a team responsible for sealing the undead warriors of legend the enemy had raised. Although his handicap had relegated him to administrative duties, at least he had adapted well to his peg leg and was in line for a prototype prosthetic being developed by engineers in Lightening.

With his wife healthily pregnant and business booming, the man had every reason to smile. "Hey, welcome back, you two!" He offered them both his free hand to shake, the other busy keeping a sizable box tucked under his arm. "This just came in from Wave." He passed the box into Chōji's free hand. "I know it's still too early for traditional visits and such, but I'd like Hirokichi to have this for his boy. The man carried my whole squad on his back to a medic station after the explosion. Who knows what might have happened to me without him? He deserves the best and to get it as soon as possible. I figure you could get it to him?"

The son of Chōji's distant relative was the first Akimichi to be born after the war, and the infant was being pampered enough, from what Shikamaru had heard. But his friend happily tucked the box under his free arm. "This is that new crib design?"

How Chōji kept up with all the personal details of all the members of his clan, Shikamaru would never know. It was a pain just keeping up with his immediate family and friends.

Mrs. Nagamura clapped her hands with unsuppressed delight. "I've never seen one like it! On top of being sturdy and attractive, the safety measures are ingenious. I can't wait to get more!"

Scratching the back of his neck, Mr. Nagamura chuckled. "I'm not sure how handy Hirokichi is, especially with how little sleep he's probably getting, so be sure to let him know we'd be happy to help him put it together. Besides, that'd give us a chance to see his boy."

Nodding, Chōji hefted the box to a more secure position against his side. "I'll be sure to let him know."

As he and Chōji made their way back down the street, the Nagamuras wished them well.

"You _sure_ you don't need help carrying anything?"

Chōji chuckled and wiggled the fingers of his unused hand, causing the bag that's handles were looped over that wrist to swing and awkwardly bump his leg. "Really, I'm good."

Half a block from the tower, a blur of motion caused Shikamaru to instinctively utilize his family's hidden jutsu, stilling everything that cast a shadow within five strides of them and stopping a kunoichi in her tracks. Although he didn't recognize her, a Konoha ninja headband held back her short-cropped, straight black hair, and in her outstretched hand was not a weapon but a small, expensive, ornate box. Perhaps she was ANBU? After releasing everything else, Shikamaru relaxed his technique enough so she could talk.

"Please let me go, Shikamaru Nara." If she was concerned about her predicament, her voice didn't show it.

"What's in the box?" he asked as Chōji shook his head in response to the tower guards asking if they needed assistance.

"Incense."

As she said it, he registered the smell of the incense shop behind her, at the foot of the path to the cemetery.

He still didn't release her. "Who's it for?"

"I don't know."

Such an annoyingly opaque answer. "Huh."

"Shikamaru..."

Without needing to say more, Shikamaru knew Chōji wanted him to release the kunoichi, so he did, though all the woman did was straighten herself. Still scowling, Shikamaru demanded, "Explain yourself." After Chōji cleared his throat in disapproval, he added, "Please."

"I was in Fourth Division."

Before being called away early on to help First Division, he and Chōji had originally been assigned to Fourth. He'd only had the time to learn the faces and attributes of all the squad captains, which could be why he didn't recognize her. But he was still a bit antsy from the adrenaline spike her rush at Chōji had caused, so he shifted between her and his over-encumbered friend.

"When Madara..." The undead Madara's meteoric attack on the Fourth Division was one of the most horrific and devastating moments of the war, wiping out almost the entire division in a single blow. Despite the quaver in her voice, her eyes never wavered from Chōji's. "When it was over, I found myself under what remained of the body of an Akimichi. There were five Akimichis assigned to Fourth. You are the only one who survived. I don't know who he was, so I can not burn incense at his grave."

"Shikamaru." Carrying so many gifts, Chōji couldn't tap him on the shoulder, but the tone of his voice was enough.

Shikamaru stepped out from between the kunoichi and his friend.

Her black eyes were the cold kind that had given up on crying long ago, but you could feel the potency of her emotions as her trembling fingers placed the box in his friend's awaiting hand. "Chōji Akimichi, please take this and burn it at the Akimichi family shrine."

"Of course." The simple words were imbued with a depth of sentiment that acknowledged this unknown kunoichi's need to show her thanks.

She nodded her appreciation. "Be safe and well."

"You, too."

Without another word, she turned and made her way up the path to the cemetery.

Once she had disappeared around a bend in the path, Chōji murmured, "Maybe the report can wait. It's not like anything important happened, and I feel like stopping by home first."

Uncomfortable with the lingering emotional intensity, Shikamaru snorted. "Yeah, it's not like you could use your hanko, let alone fill out papers as you are now."

"True enough." Chōji chuckled, but Shikamaru could tell it was forced.

The blocks between the tower and Akimichi estates were mostly administrative and residential, so they were able to make their way without being stopped every other block.

Despite all the Naras had done during the war, their contributions were less noticeable, less tangible than that of the Akimichis. No one had ever approached Shikamaru with something so grave as the need for him to accept the burden of their gratitude to the dead. After a few minutes, his friend's predicament began to weigh on him in more ways than one. "Let me help you carry something."

Picking up on the unspoken sentiment, Chōji's eyes popped open, and he gave Shikamaru a briefly serious look. Returning to his cheerful squint, he shrugged awkwardly, managing not to let any of his packages fall. "Thanks but...it's not just something I _should_ do...it's something I _want_ to do."

Thinking about it a little longer, Shikamaru sighed. "Yeah, I suppose I would, too." As his full stomach gurgled, an idea occurred to him, one he'd somehow never considered earlier. "Mind if I go with you to the shrine?" He owed the clan more than his free meal by association, and he hadn't been to the clan's shrine since Chōji's grandfather had died when they were little.

Chōji grinned. "Sure thing."

As the road narrowed, a wagon rolled past, and as Shikamaru was forced to walk behind Chōji, he found he didn't really mind being overshadowed by his friend. After all, Akimichis tended to cast large shadows, and shadows were the source of his clan's strength.

"Thanks, Chōji."

* * *

><p>DETAILS<p>

Hanko = a personal seal used as the equivalent of a Western signature

Dango = round dumplings primarily made with sticky/mochi rice flour and sometimes flavored, served several on a skewer with one of many coatings that are usually somewhat sweet

Goma dango = dango covered with a black sesame paste

Yakitori = grilled chicken served on skewers

Nori = roasted seaweed; it can come in a variety of flavors

Robata = A Japanese style of cooking involving various foods grilled on skewers over charcoal

Temaki-zushi = literally "hand-roll sushi," this kind of sushi is conical, as opposed to cylindrical maki-zushi, and is meant to be eaten by hand

Tansu = the guard for traditional Japanese weapons

Zōri = traditional Japanese footwear often used with kimono for women

REQUEST

If anyone knows of an active C2 that might be interested in this story, please let me know. Thanks!


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